


I Say, "Why Not?

by hearts_blood



Category: Tron (1982), Tron (Movies)
Genre: Buddies, Communication, Computers, Friendship, Gen, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-26
Updated: 2012-04-26
Packaged: 2017-11-04 08:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/pseuds/hearts_blood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flynn is the big dreamer, but Alan dreams of the grid as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Say, "Why Not?

**Author's Note:**

> Written around the following three prompts: the Wiki page "comparison of code generation tools", [this picture](http://www.flickr.com/photos/justinsdong/6946997793/), and the quote: You see things; and you say, 'Why?' But I dream things that never were; and I say, "Why not?" I know nothing about computers, but whatever, neither did the original film. Is anyone going to read this fic? I have no idea, I just wanted to get it out of my head. :D

Of the three of them, Alan would've called himself the stuffiest. The most straight-laced, the most incredulous, the one most likely to scoff at Flynn's story of getting laser-zapped into the computer mainframe and fighting gladiatorial games against the Master Control Program. The way Flynn told the story, giddy and high and ready to defend himself against any naysayer, said that he certainly expected Alan and Lora to scoff. Lora did scoff a bit, even though she knew full well the capability of her own laser. "You're just jealous you didn't get to go through first," Flynn teased, tugging her hair like the third-grader he was.

Alan didn't scoff. "You met Tron? Like, you actually talked to my security program?"

Flynn's grin could have split his face wide open. "Face to face."

"Flynn, I'm serious—you talked to Tron?"

"Like I'm talking to you now. I wouldn't kid you, Alan!" He paused under Alan and Lora's frowns, and relented. "Well, I wouldn't kid you about this. Everything I've told you is the truth, just the way it happened to me."

Alan could feel his brain going into overdrive. "I want to see him, Flynn," he said, leaning forward, absently removing his glasses to chew on one of the arms. "I walk to talk to my program."

Lora balled up a sheet of paper and threw it at his head. "No. If either of you try to get yourselves zapped back into Computer Land, I'll dismantle the laser and leave you there."

Flynn grinned; no doubt he was already planning how best to copy Lora's designs for his own private purposes. Not to sell. He didn't need to pirate other people's work for profit, and having had it done to his work more than once, Alan knew Flynn was above that. But to alter and play with on his own time? A totally different story. "I've gotta say, Alan, it ain't the most comfortable way to travel."

"What about that vocal interface you were talking about a while back?" Alan persisted. "The one you were designing to input voice commands directly to programs. Did you have any luck with that?"

"Yeah, it worked okay."

"How okay is 'okay'?" Lora asked, unconsciously copying Alan's posture, hunched forward and eager. "'I got a program to perform simple commands' okay or 'I had long involved philosophical discussions with a program' okay?"

The boyish programmer spread his arms wide, stretching nonchalantly. "I hacked the MCP with it."

"So Alan could actually _talk_ to Tron?"

"Yep."

"He could give him commands."

"He could have long involved philosophical discussions with him." Behind the glee, there was a spark of something definite in Flynn's eyes, something serious and determined. "Those programs that we've been writing, accounting software and actuarial programs—security programs like Tron—they started off as simple single-purpose lines of code, but they are _evolving_ inside the mainframe. That's what happened to the Master Control Program, _that's_ how it went from a single chess program to a gestalt program with a consciousness. Dillinger didn't do it; it did it itself. Tron, he's..." Flynn trailed off, breathless. "Honestly, you have no idea."

"No, I've got the idea," Alan muttered, pounding his fist softly against his thigh. "So I really could talk to him."

"Sure. We'd have to isolate the Tron program—there are input-output towers all over the grid." Flynn laughed. "It's... kind of a weird religious experience for them, actually." 

Lora stared at him. "You just said that computer programs are religious."

"In a funky way, yeah. I told you how they call us users. 'If I don't have a user, who wrote me?' That kinda thing." 

"So Alan would just have to direct his Tron program to one of these IO towers to communicate—verbally—with him."

"That's it. Or maybe rewrite a few lines of code to talk to him on the fly. I used to do that with Clu, my tank program, before the MCP erased him."

She was beginning to be convinced, Alan could see—or at the very least, intrigued, though her innate practicality was holding her back from committing fully. Her pragmatism was one of the things Alan loved about her. He might be stuffy, but he was decidedly not practical and he knew it. "Think about it, Lora. Actually communicating with an intelligent program and working with it to improve speed, functionality, code generation—I mean, why _not_ think about it?"

His girlfriend stared at him for a long moment, but couldn't come up with a decent retort. She was a scientist; set off on the right track, she'd think about everything. "All right. We're all crazy, but all right."

"I think I can design a visual aid," Alan said, thinking aloud, "but I want Tron to be able to look back at me. I want to lock eyes with him."

For the first time, Flynn looked dubious. "That's gonna take time, bud. Let's focus on getting you two introduced."

*** 

Yori knelt down beside Tron as he sat on the floor, watching the Grid. He was seated cross-legged before the window, his hands on his knees, his back straight... just sitting, and watching. "Still?" she asked quietly. 

"Still." 

Gingerly, Yori touched his shoulder, just brushing his suit with the tips of her fingers. "You don't feel any different to me," she said, smiling reassuringly. 

Tron took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "But I feel different to _me_." His eyes stared out unseeing across the multicolored lights of the city, the swoops of the bridge that spanned the river of liquid energy bisecting the city. "Inside me feels... changed. Something's been rewritten."

Yori stilled. It wasn't unheard of for a program to be rewritten once they were online, especially when they were new, but Tron was proven software. "Could it just be an update?" she ventured. "Routine maintenance to keep you aligned with the mainframe?"

He shook his head. "No. It's not a patch, it's not a simple update, it is a _change_. A change from my user." Tron reached for his helmet, smoothing it over his thick hair. "I need to go to the IO tower. I have to reach Alan One."

"Tron." Yori caught his arm. "It's one thing to communicate with the users. But confronting them?"

"My user has a plan for me," Tron insisted. "I know it." The user called Flynn, the one that had freed them from the MCP, said otherwise, but Tron refused to believe that the creature who had written him had done so to no purpose. "I dream of him, Yori. I dream things that never were. And whatever he's done to me, he has a reason for it. I won't fight him, Yori," he promised, holding her hands in his own. "I just... want to know."

He hugged her tightly, and went out. As he walked, he could feel the changes growing stronger; the lines of coding that formed his body had been altered, he knew it. But as to why...

**::Testing. Testing vocal mainframe interface.**

Tron stopped dead in his tracks, stunned. 

**::Testing. Testing. Goal program Tron-JA307020. Tron, this is Alan One. Can you hear me?**

The security program lurched over to a wall, leaning heavily on it for support. "Confirmed, Alan One," he said, overwhelmed. 

*** 

A slow, triumphant smile spread across Alan's face. Lora was speechless; Flynn was so excited he was biting his hand. "Confirmed, Alan One," he whispered, trying not to laugh. 

Alan's hand tightened on the microphone. "Hello, Tron."


End file.
